


As Always

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Comment Fic 2016 [32]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 17:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7231894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Atlantis Expedition runs into demons. Evan Lorne isn't who he seems, but as always, he will do magic if Rodney asks. Or rather, the old fandom cliché: two characters, two shows, same actor, same person. What if Cuthbert Sinclair didn't hide out after the Men of Letters were slaughtered? What if his quest for knowledge took him to new planets and a new galaxy? From the  <a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/">comment_fic</a> prompt: "Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay, slay your demons".</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Always

“What the hell are you doing? Bring more C4! Bring more guns! Bring more marines!” Rodney stood with Lorne in the ready room, watching as Lorne loaded canisters of what looked like condiments into his tac vest where he usually kept his C4.

Lorne was as irritatingly unflappable as ever. “You said the people who grabbed Sheppard looked ordinary, but they were extraordinarily strong.”

“Their eyes were black, like Ford’s when he was on the a Wraith enzyme. Obviously they're enzyme junkies and have the same stupid plan to make us help them score a fix,” Rodney said.

Lorne fixed him with a narrow look. “You said both of their eyes were black, but the black flickered in and out, wasn’t fixed like Ford’s, right?”

“So what?”

“So we’re going to get Sheppard back. Calm down, McKay. The only reason I agreed to let you accompany me on my S&R team is that you promised to be calm and obey. Take some extra C4 if it makes you feel better, but I am the military commander of this team, and the strategy decisions are mine.”

“I am calm!” Rodney shouted.

Several of the marines cast him skeptical looks.

Lorne handed him some C4. He stepped in, right into Rodney's personal space, and tucked the C4 into some empty pockets on Rodney's vest. He spoke softly so the others wouldn't hear.

“Look, I know how you feel about Sheppard. He's your guy. We will get him back. But you need to follow my lead.”

Rodney spluttered. “I don't know what you’re talking about. And who says ’your guy’ anymore?”

Lorne sighed. “People really need to review the fine print in mission reports. General O’Neill got DADT lifted for the SGC after the first time he was forced to marry Dr. Jackson in an off-world ceremony because marrying Colonel Carter would have violated frat regs. Can't have our heroes being busted down to Leavenworth every time a team runs afoul of alien customs. So get it together. We might need your genius.”

“Right.” Rodney swallowed hard. “Let's go.”

Lorne’s smile was quick, reassuring.

The emptiness on the other side of the gate wasn't reassuring. There weren't even signs of a struggle. But Rodney led Lorne's team to where he had last seen Sheppard, Ronon, and Teyla fighting with the drugged natives.

“Not even boot prints, sir,” Sergeant Mehra said.

Rodney turned around, scanned the trees, baffled. “They were here. They were right here!”

“If they were taken to another planet,” Mehra began.

Lorne nodded. “Get back to the gate. Dial for Zelenka. Take Vega with you.”

Mehra nodded, and the two women peeled away from the group.

It was Teldy who found something first. “Sir, there are footprints leading this way. Hard to tell how fresh they are. Leaf cover could have been deliberate or as a result of the weather.” She knelt at the edge of the clearing.

It was a movie cliché, but Rodney was sure he heard a twig snap. He spun around, P-90 at the ready.

The man who stepped out of the trees was one of the ones who'd ambushed them. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“We mean you no harm,” he said.

“Slamming Ronon over the head like that sure looked like harm,” Rodney spat.

The man smirked at him, and his eyes flickered black for a second. The other marines flinched.

“If you want your friends back, you will give us what we want,” he said.

“What is it you want?” Lorne asked calmly.

Rodney didn't care. He'd give them anything, even himself.

The man raised his eyebrows. “Well, I’ll be darned. Cuthbert Sinclair.”

Rodney blinked. That was a particularly earth-like turn of phrase.

Lorne said, “Haven’t gone by that moniker in a long time, sport.”

Sport? Rodney wondered. How did this man, a Pegasus native, recognize Lorne? And why had he called Lorne such a strange name?

“I always wondered if your kind was limited to one galaxy, which seemed implausible, since you're not even limited to one dimension,” Lorne continued calmly. “Now, give us back our people, and I won't obliterate your soul, or what’s left of it.”

That was crazy talk. There was no such thing as souls, ascended glowy beings aside. That wasn't spirituality but science. People had often called science magic.

The man smirked again. “Your guns won't hurt us and you know it. The only gun that could have is long gone.”

Lorne's smirk in return was frightening. “Good thing this isn't loaded with bullets, then.”

Rodney realized Lorne had drawn a water pistol, and he barely had time to think ’what the hell?’ before the strange man was writhing and screaming and steam was rising off of him. Lorne was on him in a second, had him pinned and was carving a macabre occult symbol on his forehead.

The man screamed.

Lorne nodded toward his pack. To one of the marines, he said, “Do exactly what I told you. Do not deviate one iota. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” the marine said. He looked shaken. He took the pack and began rooting through its contents. There were little plastic baggies full of more condiments, what looked like a massive white feather, and a black t-shirt.

“Major, what the hell are you doing?” Rodney demanded. “How will this help us find Sheppard?”

“He’s going to tell us,” Lorne said. The knife he was brandishing wasn’t military issue and had strange engravings in the blade. Perched atop a prone man whose face was covered in blood from the wound Lorne had carved in his forehead, Lorne looked terrifying. And yet his expression was as calm as ever. “Where is Colonel Sheppard?”

“Burn in hell!” The man spat.

Lorne swiped a finger through the spittle that had landed on his cheek, murmured a few nonsensical syllables, and the man screamed. “Sheppard, Teyla, and Ronon,” Lorne said. “Tell me.”

“You send me to hell, I’ll be right back, and you can bet I’ll ride your pretty ass next time. You can bet someone's riding your pretty colonel right now -”

Rodney’s throat closed.

Lorne stroked his knife down the man's cheek. “Who said I was going to send you back to hell?”

“Lorne,” Teldy snapped. “What are you doing? You can’t-”

Lorne sliced the man’s shirt open with a casual flick of his knife. There was a gaping hole in the man's chest where he had taken some kind of projectile to the heart. “He’s already dead. And the UCMJ never accounted for his kind.”

Teldy went pale. She exchanged looks with the other marines, but they looked equally confused and nervous.

Rodney clutched his gun tighter. What was happening? They had to find John.

“Can't believe you went military, Letterboy,” the man gasped. “You always did hate those squares and their rules.”

“Sheppard. Where is he?”

“Taking my people back to your precious Atlantis as we speak,” the man taunted. “They’ll never know what hit them.”

Lorne huffed. “You think I wouldn't protect my city? One last chance.”

“Bite me,” the man said.

Lorne drove the knife through his eye. What happened next Rodney couldn't quite explain, but it was like the man was burning from the inside out, flames dripping from his eyes and mouth and nose and ears.

One of the marines actually screamed. But then the flames were gone and there was just a dead man. Lorne cleaned his blade on what was left of the man’s shirt and sheathed it against his thigh once more.

“Lorne,” Teldy said, “I have to -”

“Report me after we get Sheppard back,” Lorne said shortly. He knelt beside the bowl of mixed condiments the marine had put together. “McKay, I need you. Get over here.”

Rodney stumbled over to him on shaking legs. He knew Lorne was a soldier and soldiers killed people, but what he'd just done was -

Lorne held out the black t-shirt. “This is Sheppard’s. I need you to bleed on it.”

Rodney stared at him.

Lorne handed him a needle. “Prick your finger. Slicing your palm is stupid.”

Rodney kept staring.

“Focus, McKay,” Lorne snapped. “You're wasting time.”

Rodney took the needle and managed to squeeze a few drops of blood onto the t-shirt before Lorne crammed it into the bowl. Lorne actually waved his hand over the bowl with a flourish like a magician, and Rodney instinctively wanted to make a scathing comment, but then the t-shirt burst into flames.

Lorne gestured for Rodney to step back, and he went to stand with the other marines, shifting nervously, while Lorne used a condiment bottle to squirt a circle of what looked like salt around the bowl. Then he stepped back.

“When the flames go out -”

John appeared. In the circle next to the bowl. He stumbled, disoriented. Rodney instinctively reached for him, but John jerked upright, like he'd stumbled into an invisible brick wall.

Lorne said, “Christo.”

John's eyes flickered black.

Lorne tapped his radio. “Lieutenant Vega, radio Atlantis. We have a foothold situation. Tell Elizabeth to hold Teyla and Ronon.”

“Yes, sir,” Vega said. “How did you know Teyla and Ronon had returned?”

“I know how these monsters operate,” Lorne said.

“Any news on Colonel Sheppard?”

“We’ll have him back soon.”

“John?” Rodney asked.

John tilted his head curiously. “John's not home right now, girlfriend, but I can pretend if you like.” He blew Rodney a kiss.

Rodney's stomach turned. The marines all had their guns trained on John, but they kept looking askance at Lorne.

John looked down at himself. “Circle of salt. Didn't see that one coming. I had no idea there were hunters in the ranks of Atlantis. Of course, John Sheppard wouldn't know what to look for anyway.” He craned his neck to peer past Lorne at the dead body. “A demon-killing knife of the Kurds? Has one of you been playing with the Winchesters? Or maybe a demon named Ruby?”

“Major.” Teldy’s voice was tight. “What the hell is going on?”

“You hit the nail on the head, sister,” John said, only that thing obviously wasn't John at all. He scanned the marines, and his gaze fell on Lorne. “You're the only other major here. Was it you, then?” He nudged the bowl with his foot. “Enochian summoning magic? That's pretty obscure stuff, for a hunter.”

“What do you want with Atlantis?” Lorne asked.

John's eyes glittered. “Ascension.”

“One Anubis was enough, thanks.” Lorne began to chant something that sounded like a Catholic prayer in Latin.

John doubled over in agony.

“Stop it!” Rodney cried.

“Better listen to him, Lorne,” John said. “If you kick me out, this body dies.”

Like the other body. Rodney glanced at the dead man, at his bloody empty eye socket, and shuddered.

Lorne cut himself off. “Fine. Sergeant,” he said to the nervous marine beside Teldy, “there are chains in my pack. Cuff him.” He drew his water pistol once more. “This is holy water. No funny business.”

Who said funny business anymore?

John snickered. “Chains, hunter? You vagrant kids were always a kinky bunch.” But he held his hands out obediently when the marine drew a set of medieval-looking chains and cuffs out of Lorne's pack. The cuffs and chain links had strange, occult-looking engravings in them.

John winked at Rodney. “Bet you like the sound of this, huh? Your pretty boy all chained up?”

Rodney looked away from him, thinking furiously. Had there ever been mention of anything like this in the Ancient database? Alien consciousnesses had overtaken SGC and even Atlantis personnel before. They could handle this. Only he had never known a consciousness to keep a dead body animated.

No. Sheppard wasn't dead. He was walking and talking. He was still alive with that thing inside of him.

On the way back to the gate, Teldy dragged Lorne aside for a fierce whispered conference. Rodney, keeping an eye on John as the marines shuffled him along, only caught the tail end of it.

“I’ll explain it once for Elizabeth and the other commanders to hear,” Lorne said, “and if you don’t like it, you can ship me back to earth for court-martial. But not till we have Sheppard back.”

Teldy growled but radioed ahead to let Vega and Mehra know they were coming.

Marines were armed and standing by in the gate room when the team arrived. Elizabeth stood beside Chuck at the control panel.

“Major Lorne, report. Teyla and Ronon show no signs of alien infection. Dr. Beckett checked them over, and they’re fine. For some reason, however, they cannot leave the gate room. We have no signs of a force field, and others can pass in and out just fine. What's going on? And why is Colonel Sheppard in chains?”

John made a break for it. “Don't listen to him, Elizabeth! Lorne's gone section eight. He stabbed a guy through the eye -”

Teldy had started toward John to stop him, but then she hesitated. Rodney was torn. Lorne had murdered that man, but he'd found John, and -

Lorne said it again, “Christo,” and John and Ronon and Teyla all twitched like they’d received a static shock.

The marines trained their guns on them.

“Major Lorne,” Elizabeth said, “what's going on?”

“I’ll explain everything,” Lorne said, “but we need to save Sheppard and his team first. Isolation room thirteen. Have Beckett prep for emergency surgery and bring his team.”

“Long story short,” John said, “it’s all real. Angels, demons, heaven, hell. Vampires and werewolves and witches.”

Ronon bared his teeth and said, “We’re demons.”

Lorne knelt and pressed his hand to the floor, murmured more nonsense syllables, and Rodney felt a thrum in the air. Lorne stood up, lifted his chin, and the marines surged forward to herd John, Ronon, and Teyla through the halls.

The marines blinked when Ronon and Teyla made it out of the gate room, and Elizabeth looked surprised as well.

“There are poor, uneducated, blue-collar alcoholics who are petty criminals and think themselves heroes who hunt us so-called monsters,” Teyla said. She eyed Lorne's water pistol. “Let me guess. Holy water?”

Lorne said nothing. Rodney was ready to pin him down and carve things on his face if it would make him explain what was happening.

“Angels and demons are earth-based concepts,” Elizabeth said. “I’ve never heard of them out here. Well, demons, yes, but never angels.”

“Not earth-based,” John said, “but earth is the planet where the most interdimensional gates are. Getting out here to Pegasus was damn hard work.” He grinned.

Rodney knew that grin, but the coldness behind John’s eyes made him want to scream.

Isolation room thirteen was one they never used, and Rodney wondered why Lorne had been so specific about asking for it. But as soon as they got inside the room, he understood. The walls had been covered in arcane sigils like the ones on Lorne's knife and John's chains.

“They can’t escape from this room,” Lorne said when Elizabeth cast him a questioning look.

Beckett arrived with a mobile operating table and a team of nurses. “What’s going on? Teyla and Ronon checked out. Is there anything wrong with Colonel Sheppard?”

John spread his hands wide. “Search me.”

“Ma’am,” Lorne said, “I recommend all non-essential personnel wait outside. Post guards on the door, but wait outside.”

Elizabeth nodded. “All right. Rodney, come on.”

Teldy and the other marines backed out of the room.

John said, “No, let him stay.” His smile was the one he used just for the two of them, when they were alone in Rodney's quarters. Rodney's flesh crawled.

Elizabeth glanced at Lorne, who said, “Rodney is essential personnel, ma’am.”

She nodded and left the room. The sound of the door closing behind her was ominously final.

“Major,” Beckett said, “what’s going on?”

Lorne nodded at John. “Search him. He's injured. Possibly fatally.”

Beckett started toward John, but John shook his head. “I want Rodney to do it. He's had enough practice.”

Rodney sidled close. He started to reach for the tac vest, paused. “The chains are in the way. I can’t -”

Lorne reached out, tapped the cuffs, and Rodney thought he heard more of those odd syllables, and the cuffs and chains fell away.

Teyla and Ronon, who’d been hanging back, started closer.

Lorne sprayed Ronon with his water pistol.

“That thing is going to run out eventually,” Ronon hissed, eyes flickering black.

“Not as soon as you'd think,” Lorne said. “Get to it, Rodney.”

John looked infuriatingly amused while Rodney stripped off his tac vest with shaking hands.

“Don’t worry,” John said, voice low and warm and intimate, “I won't bite. Unless you ask. You want to ask him to, don't you?”

“Shut up,” Rodney hissed. “You're not him.” He stripped off John's t-shirt, and there it was, a neat hole in the chest, a gunshot wound with no exit wound. There was no blood - it had been cleaned away. And there had been no hole in his shirt. No one would ever have known.

Beckett gaped. “How are you even alive?”

John’s eyes turned black. “Magic.” And he lunged.

What happened next, Rodney could never accurately describe. There were screams and gunshots. Teyla and Ronon attacked the nurses. Lorne dove into the fray. Rodney found himself on the sidelines with a chained and furious and struggling John in his arms. Lorne forced Rodney to press his hands over John's ears and his lips were moving but Rodney didn’t know what he was saying, but then he was curled over John's hand, hands clamped tightly over his ears while Lorne shouted in nonsense syllables and Latin. Ronon and Teyla were screaming, only their screams turned into inhuman roars, and then there was silence.

It was broken by ragged breathing.

Teyla began to sob.

“Are you hurt?” Lorne demanded. “Either of you?”

Ronon’s familiar rumble was perfect. “No. But the demons - they forced Teyla to shoot Sheppard.”

“Get her back to her quarters,” Lorne said. “I’ll be by to talk to her in a bit.”

Elizabeth’s voice crackled over the comm unit. “What the hell just happened?”

“I exorcised the demons possessing Teyla and Ronon,” Lorne said calmly.

“Then that black smoke -”

Rodney lifted his head.

Lorne was holding two glass mason jars, and black smoke was roiling in both of them.

“Demons in their true form,” Lorne said. “If they went back to hell, they would report to their King, and Atlantis would be compromised. I have to destroy them.”

Rodney wasn't sure he could take any more crazy. “What about John?”

Lorne said, “Beckett. Repair the wound. The demon will keep him alive. Once the damage is repaired, call me. I'll get rid of the demon.”

Beckett spluttered. “He’s already dead!”

“No he's not,” Rodney snapped. “Now do what the major said.” He uncurled from around John and helped the nurses strap him onto the operating table. Lorne pricked his own finger and sketched several bloody sigils on the straps.

“He won’t give you trouble,” Lorne said. “And Rodney, demons lie. To hurt people.”

“Major Lorne,” Elizabeth said, “we need to talk.”

“I expect so, ma’am.” Lorne left the room.

“Rodney,” Beckett said, “you should go with him. My nurses need to sterilize the room, and I need to scrub in.”

“Then I’ll scrub in, too,” Rodney said.

Beckett sighed. “Come with me, then.”

Rodney didn't know a lot about demons, but he learned plenty while Beckett operated to save John - the real John’s - life. Demons were immune to anesthesia. They were not immune to pain, but they had a much higher tolerance for it than humans, especially when the knives cutting into them were surgical and not magical, like Lorne used. Demons could also read minds. They took great pleasure in peeking into the minds around them and casually dispensing deep, dark secrets and painful memories. More than one nurse had started crying. Beckett locked down the comm unit, instructing the marines outside to only contact him by radio. Demons didn't just lie. They told the truth when it would hurt worse than a lie.

The demon dispensed casual horrors and lies from John's mind. Rodney didn't know if they were lies or not, and he didn't want to know. He was choosing to believe that John didn't think about Nancy every time they had sex, and he would believe what he wanted till John told him otherwise. When the demon made a particularly pointed comment about Beckett’s mother, Beckett gritted his teeth and said,

“Nothing leaves this room, understood?”

Rodney and the nurses nodded.

“I can see this is killing you,” the demon said. “It's killing John even more, how much he's hurting you. Your little hunter friend may destroy me, but I’ll never be gone.”

“Lorne’s not a hunter,” Rodney said. “The other demon, the one he stabbed - it called Lorne a Letterboy. Referred to him by a different name.”

Interest sparked in the demon’s eyes. “Really? I thought Abbadon took all of them out in a kamikaze blaze of glory back in the fifties. Is Lorne one of those damned Winchesters?”

“No. His name was - Sinclair. Something Sinclair.”

The demon’s laughter made Rodney's blood run cold. “Cuthbert Sinclair. Haven't heard that name for a long time. Poor little soldiers and scientists, terrified of space vampires among the stars. You have no idea who you let into your ranks.”

It took hours, but Beckett repaired the damage to John's heart, and they all watched in amazement as the wounds healed themselves. The demon eyed the self-repairing chest with interest. “That’s new. I bet no one’s ever tried it before.”

Beckett stepped back and tapped his radio. “Send in Major Lorne.”

Lorne arrived quickly. He glanced at the monitors, and Beckett said, “I don't know how, but he's alive again.”

Lorne nodded. He placed a hand on John's forehead, and there it was, that Latinate prayer. The demon twitched and jerked.

“Don’t trust him, Rodney!” it shouted. “You don't know who he really is!”

Lorne ignored the demon and kept chanting. Rodney was damn grateful for his unflappable calm.

The nurses jerked back when black smoke poured out of John’s throat. Lorne caught the smoke in a jar, screwed the lid on with an expert flick of his wrist.

John retched. Rodney lunged and fumbled at the straps holding him down. “Help me!”

Beckett and the nurses joined in. As soon as John was free, he rolled onto his side and vomited. Rodney hung onto his shoulders, stroking his hair.

“I have to go,” Lorne said, “destroy this.”

Rodney didn't care whether he stayed or left.

“I’ll order some food from the mess hall,” Beckett said quietly. “Stay with him, Rodney.”

Beckett and the nurses cleared out. Rodney levered himself up onto the operating table and tugged John to him, uncaring of the marines outside. John tried to squirm away, refused to look at Rodney.

“Go,” he said.

“John,” Rodney protested.

“I'm sorry,” John whispered. “The things I said -”

“That was the demon, not you. None of it was true.” Rodney held him tightly. Please, Rodney begged. For once, just agree with me.

John’s silence was damning.

Rodney said, “I’ll go.”

Rodney and John sat on opposite sides of the room for Lorne's briefing. Lorne's voice washed over him, a murmur of nonsense, because Rodney had taken all the crazy he could take. Snakeheads and space vampires he could handle. Ghosts and werewolves and magic he could not. Sure he'd seen Lorne do it, but that didn't matter. Rodney wanted to get blind drunk and sleep for a week. Instead, he'd have to be up for hours implementing new security protocols for his teams. Tattoos and sigils. Magic was so primitive.

After the briefing, the other commanders stumbled out of the conference room, looking as dazed as Rodney felt. He hung behind, waiting for Lorne to pack up his demonstration materials.

“Can you really do anything with magic?” Rodney asked. “Anything at all.”

Lorne nodded. “Pretty much. If you can imagine it, I can engineer it. Why?”

Rodney swallowed hard. “Can magic make me forget?”

“Forget what?”

“Forget everything the demon said.”

Lorne took a deep breath. “Memory spells are tricky things, sport. Memories are all intertwined. Not just in your head, but everyone else’s too. If you forget something that everyone else remembers, well, that will get awkward fast, won’t it?”

Rodney remembered the nurses crying, Teyla’s sobbing. “Could you make everyone forget? Forget this entire day happened.”

“We'd have to recall all the offworld teams,” Lorne said. “I don't have authority for that.”

Rodney blinked. “But you could do that? Make us all forget the past day?”

“Sure. If you think you and I have the right to make that decision for everyone else.”

Rodney heard the demon using John’s voice to tell him John really loved someone else, that Rodney was just a convenient warm body.

“I'm the smartest man in two galaxies. Do it.”

“Are you sure?”

“You won't leave us unprotected against those things, will you?”

“I’ve been protecting Atlantis since I arrived.”

“You’ve been using magic all along? And no one has noticed?”

“Usually people are busy during emergencies.”

It didn't seem fair, to leave the responsibility to Lorne, even if Lorne always was capable and efficient. But every time Rodney closed his eyes, he saw John's eyes flicker black. “Do it.”

Lorne nodded. “As always, Rodney, all you have to do is ask.”

“What do you mean, as always?”

 

*

When Rodney awoke, he was curled around John. It took him a moment to figure out where he was. He was sure they'd agreed to spend the night in John's quarters, but this was Rodney's room. Beside him, John was pale and exhausted even in sleep. That was bad. They had a mission this morning. Standard recon, but still. Only when Rodney checked his data pad, there was a message from Major Lorne. Everyone offworld had been recalled while the entire base implemented new security measures. Lorne had handled John's portion and Zelenka had Rodney's in hand. If they wanted to take the morning off, Elizabeth would never have to know.

Rodney stared at his schedule, baffled. But John looked so tired. It wouldn't hurt for him to sleep in just this once. Rodney lay back and closed his eyes, nestled closer to John. Just before he drifted off to sleep, he prayed that when John opened his eyes, they’d be the right color.

Where had that thought come from?


End file.
